Off Limits Read online

  A restaurant—I’m getting desperate and have put in a call to a friend of a friend—said the same thing the first hiring manager did. That they spoke to someone at Blue who couldn’t recommend my work.

  I didn’t even do anything wrong at Blue. Except piss off Drake.

  Is he blackballing me? That would be just excellent.

  I have no job, I’m running out of money, and my future is tenuous. Add to that the fact I haven’t heard from my boyfriend in four days, since his baby momma came back into town, and I’m ready to pitch a tent near the ice cream aisle.

  I broke down and called Jaeger this afternoon. I told myself I’d wait until he called, but he hasn’t and I couldn’t hold out any longer. Jaeger didn’t answer, so I left a message, but he hasn’t called back.

  Am I being dumped? Again?

  Four days. Four days since Kate interrupted our date at Tao, and no word from Jaeger. Any normal human being would assume it’s over. I should have learned after Eric, but I can’t wrap my head around it. Everything with Jaeger is different. I strongly suspected it was over with Eric when he didn’t call. With Jaeger, I’m not sure I can believe it’s over until I hear it from him.

  I’ve signed up for classes, but I have no way to pay for them. I refuse to mooch off my mom after she spent years financing college. I’m not even sure she could afford to help me, now that she has a mortgage.

  A crazed desperation drives me these days.

  I make my way through my second pint of butter pecan, pondering how insane it is that I might end up attending law school after all. At least at Harvard I have a loan established that will cover living and tuition. All this introspection to end up right where I started? Miserable, but surviving? There’s got to be a better way.

  The front door bolt scrapes and the door opens. Gen walks in. It’s after one in the morning and she’s dressed in tight jeans and a slinky tank. Meanwhile, Tyler’s still out with one of his buddies.

  I raise an eyebrow. Gen doesn’t just look beautiful tonight, she looks hot. Like, trying to impress a guy hot.

  I’m instantly suspicious. How dare she not tell me she’s dating someone? “Where’ve you been? Did you go out on a date?”

  For a moment she looks like a teenager slipping in after curfew. She sinks onto the couch, glaring at my ice cream. “How much of that have you eaten this week?”

  I study the carton. “This week?”

  She lets out a nervous laugh. “Cali…”

  “Five pints?”

  She pokes my belly. It’s stuffed with slushy goodness. “I think you need to cool it with that. Time for an intervention.”

  That’s funny. I’m usually giving Gen interventions about the smutty books she’s addicted to—trashy TV I fully support—and her poor taste in men.

  My, how things have changed.

  I glare at her and reload my spoon, but I can’t bring it to my mouth. I am stuffed. I’ve eaten so much ice cream these last few days I’ve grown immune to the sugar high, like a junkie.

  “I don’t need an intervention. I need a job. I need a life.” My voice catches on that last bit.

  “I know, hon.” She drapes her arm around my shoulders. “You’ve had some challenges, but it’s time to pick yourself up.”

  “How?” I sink lower and curl into her. Being a loser sucks. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

  “Yes you do. You’re an artist. You took all those fancy classes back in college because it was easy for you and it’s what other people would have done if they had your brains. But now you need to think about how you want to live the rest of your life.”

  Gen’s been dealing with the deep stuff while I’ve lived a relatively charmed existence. Finances were tight, but I had a smooth home life. Meanwhile, Gen mentioned a few of the trials she grew up with living with her mom, none of them good. It’s a wonder she came out so normal. She’s stronger and wiser than she knows.

  “I have thought about what I want to do, and it’s not working out. I should just go to law school,” I mumble. “It’s not too late. I haven’t gotten around to notifying them I’m not attending.”

  Gen pinches my chin and lifts my head until she’s staring me down. “Don’t throw your life away because you’re scared.” She’s mentioned her fears before and how they crippled her. She’s speaking from experience.

  I thought I had everything figured out, but it was artificial, shallow. I should have focused on my own life and left Gen to deal with hers. She’s doing just fine without me meddling.

  Pity party is over. I squish the top of the carton back on the ice cream and set it on the floor.

  Gen watches me approvingly. She shifts and taps her toe, her chin propped on her fist like she’s thinking.

  She looks pretty and powerful. My BF has changed these last two months. She’s still her, just more confident. I thought I was confident, and maybe I am, but it was because others told me what I was doing was fantastic, not because I thought it was. When I get out of this, I’ll be stronger and it will be genuine. I’ll have confidence because I’m doing what makes me happy, not simply what’s expected.

  “I’d bet money Drake has something to do with Blue giving you poor references,” she says. “You’ll have a hard time finding a job.”

  “I know. I’ve considered he’s probably behind it.”

  Gen’s eyes narrow as she gazes absently across the room. She nods as if she’s having a silent conversation with herself. “I already talked to Nessa. I’ll follow up with her. We’ll find something.”

  I close my eyes and let out a weighty sigh. It’s difficult to imagine there’s a job out there that doesn’t require references and still pays enough to cover my expenses. As much as the job situation upsets me, it’s not the thing hurting me the most right now.

  Gen squeezes my hand, peering at my face. “I don’t know why he hasn’t called, Cali. He’s dealing with stuff. Big stuff. Have you tried talking to your brother? Has he heard anything?”

  “Jaeger’s off the grid. He’s not taking calls. He never returned Tyler’s texts.”

  “Give him time. A few days isn’t long, considering what he’s going through. Don’t forget, he’s one of the good guys.”

  “I know.” My eyes bead up with tears. I shake my head. “This hurts worse.”

  “Worse than Eric,” she says, understanding without me having to say it.

  “Losing Eric was nothing compared to this. My pride took a hit with Eric and I was sad, but this… this is like someone took an ice pick to my heart and punched a few thousand holes in it.” I buckle and lay my head in her lap.

  Gen strokes my head for several seconds. “There’s only one thing to do in this situation.”

  “Apply for a heart transplant?” I mumble.

  She reaches over me, smashing my skull on her lap in the process. The television clicks on and I look up. She’s running through Netflix. The chalet is ancient, but it has entertainment perks.

  Obviously, a man owns the rental.

  Gen pulls up What Would William Pelt Do? “We ogle hot William for twelve to fifteen hours until our minds go numb.”

  As solutions go, this one isn’t bad. Gen and I watch William’s abs and his dating mishaps for the next couple of hours. I end up laughing so hard my ice cream gut cramps.

  Life could be worse. But I wish a few things would start working out again.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  After my night with Gen and our William TV marathon, Jaeger finally called. I was in the shower and missed it, of course. I haven’t called him back, because Gen stealthily lined up a job interview for me while we were watching TV last night. She’d been texting back and forth with Nessa, and this morning I woke with this message on the fridge.

  Sallee Construction, Pinecone Chalet Business Center. Interview with John Sallee at 2 p.m. Mention me and Nessa and don’t be late!

  I can’t call Jaeger, because I need to get through this interview without falling apart. It’s th
e best lead I’ve had, and it’s supposedly a friend of Nessa’s, so I might actually have a fighting chance at getting the job. Four days is too long to go without calling your girlfriend when you know she’s waiting to hear from you. I have no idea what Jaeger will say, but I can’t imagine it’s anything good.

  The irony of how this summer began, with me thinking I had everything figured out, determined to help Gen, and how it’s ending up with our positions reversed, has not escaped me.

  I would have liked to grill Gen about the interview, but she left early—Gen, the thou-shall-not-rise-before-ten person. Something has gotten into her, but she swiftly dodged my question about whom she’d been with earlier in the night, the bugger.

  I managed to squeeze a couple of details out of her about the interview via text before she said she’d be out of range. Nessa knows the owner of Sallee Construction, and Gen said to bring my sketches. She didn’t mention what the position was for, but I imagine it has something to do with art.

  Who cares if it doesn’t? I’m desperate.

  Fingers crossed, I pull up to the Pinecone Chalet Business Center at a quarter of two. If this job doesn’t work out, I’m not sure what I’ll do. I threatened myself with going to Harvard, but I won’t. In fact, I notified the university this morning that I won’t be attending. If this job doesn’t pan out, I’ll find another. It might not pay as much, and I’ll have to put off art classes for a while, but it’ll be the beginning of something that feels right.

  I enter the office of Sallee Construction and am immediately optimistic. The receptionist is in a pair of light wash jeans and a purple top, her frizzy blond hair pulled back in a scrunchy. She’s no-fuss and friendly looking, and the complete antithesis of the receptionist at Blue who handed me my closing papers. That’s got to be a good sign.

  “Just a moment, honey.” She types on her keyboard with the tips of her stubby fingernails and makes a note in a log to the side of her desk. “Okay.” She beams. “What can I do for you?”

  “I’m Cali Morgan. I have an appointment with John Sallee. Genevieve Tierney and Nessa Villanueva referred me.”

  “He’s expecting you. Go right on back. First door on your left.” She smiles and turns back to her computer.

  John Sallee’s office door is open when I walk up to it. He’s flipping through documents on his desk. I tap on the door.

  He looks up, startled for a moment, before a wide smile sweeps his face. “You must be Cali.” He pushes the stack he shuffled to the side, though I’m not sure why. His desk is covered in papers and rolled-up blueprints, as is the rest of his office. Shuffling things around won’t create space; he’d need a shredder for that. “Come on in.”

  I take a seat across from John, keeping my back straight to see over the mountain of crap on his desk. Messy desk or not, he has one of those friendly faces, with dark tanned skin and deep laugh lines that match his smile.

  “So, I hear you need a job,” he says.

  Awesome. I’m like a charity case. “Yes, sir. I do.”

  “And you’re friends with Gen and Nessa?”

  “Gen is my best friend. We went to college together at Dawson University. I met Nessa through Gen.” I don’t mention the casino. John can read about it on my résumé. I’m not hiding the fact that I worked there, but I’m not going to remind him about it either. He’d receive the same poor feedback about my employment every other hiring manager did.

  He nods, considering me from across the desk. “Gen said you’re passing up an opportunity to attend Harvard Law to pursue art.”

  I thought John was Nessa’s contact? When would Gen have spoken to him?

  John whistles. “You sure you want to do that?”

  My chin tips up. “I’ve been considering a different career all year.”

  The truth is, I’ve been considering how I wasn’t looking forward to law school all year. I didn’t realize until this summer how much I’d been dreading it. In junior high, the fact that I liked arguing with people seemed a good enough reason to become a lawyer, but not anymore. It only took me forever to figure it out. I’m stubborn that way.

  “Mm-hmm. Well…” He looks at a piece of paper in front of him. “It says here you’re taking a CAD course.”

  “It begins tonight.”

  “And you took upper-division economics at Dawson and are proficient with mathematics.”

  “Uh, higher mathematics, yes.”

  If he wants me to perform advanced calculus, we’re good. If he asks me which way is left or to do simple addition, my brain might implode. The only way I got away with dealing at the casino was by memorizing the card combinations.

  “Okay, well, I’ve got an in-house architect who’s been riding me to hire an assistant with CAD experience. Once you learn CAD, you’ll work exclusively with him. Until then, you’ll do odd jobs for the architect and engineer. An artist comes in handy more often than you would think in this business.” He leans back in his chair. “What do you think, Cali? How does that sound?”

  Is he kidding? “It sounds perfect.”

  He chuckles. “Good. You might be asked to do anything from making coffee runs to sketching a foundation, so be prepared. I’ll pay you a base salary with benefits. You’ll get a raise with your CAD qualifications.”

  John goes over some figures, and with a few quick calculations on my iPhone back at the car, I realize I can actually survive on the salary he quoted. It’s not as much as I made as a dealer, but once my pay increases with the CAD skills, I’ll make enough to live comfortably.

  More important, it’s a job. With health benefits. And I’ll be drawing. I could kiss Gen and Nessa right now.

  The company needs someone right away, so I’ll start the day after tomorrow. John said he’d schedule a staff meeting and lay down the law so that his coworkers don’t pull me apart assigning me to projects. He’s actually eager to have me on board, and he never asked for references. My connection to Gen, the few sketches I brought per Gen’s suggestion, and my transcripts from college were enough for him to hire me on the spot.

  I’m so excited I’m shaking. I pull up to the chalet and Tyler is sitting on the cement pad that is our front porch. His legs are outstretched in the dirt. He looks up, and the permagrin I drove home with fades.

  Something’s wrong. His eyes are fixed and tense, his mouth stiff. I get out of the car and cross over to him. “What happened? Are you okay?”

  Tyler picks up a brown pine needle and twists it in his fingers. “I spoke to a friend who ran into Jaeger’s sister.”

  My heart thumps heavily inside my chest.

  I drop down beside him, dust from the powdery soil smearing my navy interview skirt. “Just say it.”

  Tyler bends his legs and props an arm on his knee. “Jaeger’s ex has moved in with him.”

  The pain hits me like a bullet, instant and sharp.

  I swallow and wobble to my feet, gripping the side of the house.

  Tyler looks up. “Cali?”

  I open the front door and walk into the bedroom, locking the door behind me.

  It’s over. I don’t need to hear the truth from Jaeger and allow things to drag out the way they did with Eric. That would kill me. Right now, I already feel like I’m dying.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Jaeger calls and texts several more times after I return home from my interview. I delete his number from my phone.

  Why wouldn’t he tell me what was going on? Didn’t I deserve to know he’d gotten back together with his girlfriend before she moved in? What is wrong with men?

  Over the next couple of days, I stay busy in classes and at my new job, but it hurts. It hurts so badly. It’s like the knowledge of Jaeger and Kate together has charred my heart and left an ugly, thick scar in its place.

  My first day of work, I met all the guys at Sallee Construction. That’s what my workplace consists of—a bunch of dudes, the middle-aged receptionist, and me. I get lots of attention. And I can’t appreciate an
y of it because my heart doesn’t feel anymore.

  The older men treat me like I’m their daughter, and the younger ones check me out when they think I’m not looking. The architect and civil engineer are among the older pack, and keep me busy on various projects.

  I worried I’d be fetching coffee and donuts until I learned CAD, but that hasn’t happened. Bill, the architect, saw my drawings the first day and immediately asked me to produce an artist’s rendition of an upscale strip mall for a project south of the casinos, complete with landscape specifications. I’ve had to look up various regional flora, which has given me ideas for new sketches in my free time.

  I’m taking one morning and one evening class and squeezing work in between. I haven’t figured out how I’ll manage to get to and from either place on a regular basis without a car, but between lifts from Gen and Tyler and the bus, I’ve managed so far.

  Almost everyone in my morning art class is female, while everyone in my evening CAD class is male. I’ve talked to a couple of people from both courses and find each group vastly different, yet equally nerdy in their own right. I’m the biggest nerd of all, because I’m in both classes. My geekiness spans the spectrum.

  The evening CAD course is the most difficult to get to because Gen has to work and Tyler wants a social life. I asked around on the first day, and one of the guys in my class was willing to carpool. He lives fairly close to the chalet and doesn’t seem to mind picking me up and dropping me off three nights a week.

  It’s Wednesday, and Leo, the CAD guy, is driving me home tonight.

  “Are you hungry?” he asks on our way to his car after class.

  Leo’s been really sweet, and I’ve wondered on more than one occasion if he’s looking for more than a carpool buddy. Particularly given that I can offer nothing in the way of reciprocation without a vehicle.

  “No, I’d better get home. There’s a project I need to put a few hours into.” It’s really just a sketch of the cascades Jaeger and I hiked to at Fallen Leaf Lake.